


Ron Weasley and the Devil's Handshake

by Farbautidottir



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure, BAMF Ron Weasley, Courage, Family, Fear, Gen, Kidnapping, Post-Hogwarts, Suspense, Thriller
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 09:22:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24348709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Farbautidottir/pseuds/Farbautidottir
Summary: When Ron Weasley's wife and kids are kidnapped, he must venture into the unknown magic of a powerful Dark Artefact in order to save his family before time runs out.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	Ron Weasley and the Devil's Handshake

Ron was starving. Too hungry to bother with the Floo Network even, so he apparated home after working late at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. He landed just outside their front gate since the anti-apparation wards Hermione put up extended to their fence line. The gate stood ajar. Ron muttered to himself about how he'd have to remind the kids to keep it closed. He pushed through it, the familiar squeaky hinge loud in the otherwise calm night.

The house lights weren't on, which seemed odd, but Ron shrugged it off, too hungry to dwell on it. He unlocked the door with their key—Hermione insisted on a Muggle lock—only to find it already unlocked. His pulse quickened, but he assured himself the kids just forgot to lock it. Rose and Hugo were only ten and eight after all, too young and easily distracted to remember things like locking the door.

" _Lumos_ ," he cast to turn on the lights.

Seeing the living room, however, his assurance vanished, replaced instead by a dry throat and sinking feeling of dread that anchored him to the floor. Signs of a struggle were evident throughout the usually cozy room—a cracked and overturned coffee table, countless pages from Hermione's books torn and scattered about, a hole in the sofa where a wand blast clearly tore through it. The resulting burn mark scorched the wall behind it, the ugly wallpaper now singed and peeling to reveal the stonework beneath. If Ron wasn't so horrified, he might appreciate that they could finally replace the wallpaper with something less heinous.

Instead, his old Auror training kicked in and he began to survey the crime scene in attentive silence. If someone was still inside and his family was hiding, he wanted to hear every noise that transpired. He waited a full minute before he stepped further into the house, closing the door quietly behind him. His wand steady, his footing sure, he crept through the living room into the kitchen. It, too, was empty. A pot of spilt stew seeped across the kitchen floor and the burner remained on. He quickly extinguished the flames and noticed the largest knife was missing from the block. He scanned the room and didn't see it anywhere. He imagined Hermione wielding it in her hand, forgetting that she was a witch as she so often did in moments of panic. Based on the living room's evidence, the intruder clearly brandished a wand, and a knife—no matter the size—would be no match for that.

Adrenaline-fueled fear flooded him, replacing his instinct to be quiet. He ran up the stairs to search the bedrooms, calling his family's names.

"Hermione!"

"Hugo!"

"Rose!"

His cries garnered no response.

He threw open Rose's bedroom door. Everything was torn apart. The teal and pink fabric of her bed was ripped to pieces, her jewelry cabinet shattered with its faux pearls strewn across the vanity, and even the secret compartment under her desk had been revealed and hung open.

"No, no, no."

He was in Hugo's room now, a similar scene to his daughter's ransacked room. The train model he'd spent months building was smashed and overturned. The mattress was split in half, stuffing overflowing from its gaping hole. The wardrobe stood open, emptied, its contents in heaps on the carpet.

Whoever was here had been searching for something. What though, he had no idea. Anything of monetary value, they kept in their vaults at Gringotts.

He searched his kids' rooms again for any sign of them, scouring the hallway linen cupboard and their shared bathroom as well. Only one room remained. He took a deep breath, tightened his grip on his wand, and opened the master bedroom's door.

As he entered, his hair stood on end. Everything was eerily in order, much tidier than usual in fact.

On his nightstand, however, the missing kitchen knife stood upright, its tip pinned into the wood with force. Beneath it was a single piece of parchment, which read in eloquent script:

> Weasel,
> 
> I want back what is mine: the medallion you took in the raid of my father's estate so many years ago. As I could not locate it in your home or vaults, I have taken something valuable of yours. Unlike my father, I am not a cruel man. If you return the talisman to me by dawn, your family will go free and unharmed. I am not looking to negotiate, and the consequences of attempting such tactics will not be kind to your Mudblood wife. You have until dawn.
> 
> T. Nott

Tendrils of fear oozed over Ron like an egg had been cracked on the top of his head. Then, anger rose up to meet his fear in licking flames of rage. No one threatened his family and got away with it, especially not a Death Eater's son and known pureblood supremacist like Theodore Nott.

His knuckles whitened as he yanked up the kitchen knife and threw it across the bedroom with a growling scream. He grabbed the ransom note and stormed downstairs to the living room, his mind reeling.

He remembered the case vividly. It had been his first raid as a new Auror. He and Harry had blundered in with the more experienced team of Aurors to make the arrest of Archibald Nott and raid the estate. They were to bring in any Dark Artefacts for evidence, but when Ron had found the medallion, its magic called to him. He felt a distinct connection to it, as though the talisman belonged to him. So, he pocketed it and told no one.

He'd worn it for years, thinking it protected him as an Auror and gave him an advantage. When he quit the job and went to run the joke shop with George, the talisman turned against him. He sought to sever the bond it had with him but could not. Its dark properties had siphoned too much of his magic into it by then.

Researching it secretly in Hermione's private library, he'd discovered it was the one of three talismans in the world called the Devil's Handshake or Devil's Deal, depending on the Ancient Runes translation. He summoned the book to him now, relieved it was still intact as it flew to him. He flipped to the page and read.

> The talisman seduces hapless sorcerers by homing in on their magical aura and producing a harmonious energy, giving them a false sense of connection to it. Once the sorcerer begins to wear it, the talisman forms a siphon bond with a sorcerer's magic. The darker the magic of the wearer, the more symbiotic the relationship between sorcerer and talisman. Ultimately, for the darkest of wizards, the talisman becomes the most powerful protection possible, fueled by their dark magic. This is why it is considered a Dark Artefact.

Ron scanned for the part that mattered.

> To prevent the talismans from becoming more powerful than the sorcerers who wore them, their creator built in a failsafe. By redistributing the medallion's protective properties onto another object or person, the talisman's magic focuses on that sole purpose and no longer siphons magic from the wearer. To touch the medallion again, the wearer must fully reinstate their magical bond to it. This is done by passing a series of trials the talisman sets forth for the wearer. These trials, lasting hours or days, exist in an alternate plane.

"Days?!" Ron slammed shut the book, hurrying to the kitchen.

Desperate to be rid of the medallion a decade ago, he'd redistributed its protective properties to someone else. Someone his brother Bill had been helping ever since the war and had let live on the Delacour property in France.

No one knew about any of this, not even the person the talisman now protected. How Nott had traced it to him, he couldn't fathom. He glanced at the clock. It was only 7:42 p.m. He had approximately nine hours before dawn. He had to try.

Still hungry, he shoved the quickest-to-grab options—a bag of crisps and an apple—into his robe before heading back outside. He closed the gate firmly behind him and apparated to the Delacour property, landing just outside the edge of its ancient forest.

A lone cottage stood a hundred feet away. Its windows shone the only light other than the bright moon rising overhead.

Ron groaned. Just his luck it was a full moon tonight.

"Hope she's taken her wolfsbane," he muttered into the cool air.

Reaching the cottage, Ron held up a hand to knock, but the door opened and there she stood. Her face rounder but worn and the grisly scar from Fenrir prominent on her neck, she wore light makeup, her hair styled in curls, to improve her otherwise grim appearance.

"I've been expecting you," Lavender Brown said, staying inside out of the moonlight. "Come in."

"Huh?"

"My tea leaves showed I would have a visitor tonight. A past love who was in dire need of help."

Ron entered the small cottage, cool inside despite the lit fireplace. His eyes flickered to where he'd hid the medallion in the mantel. She motioned for him to sit on the slumping sofa.

"I don't have much time." He handed her the ransom note.

She gasped, reading it. "This is horrible."

"I know. Unfortunately, the medallion is here. I brought it over a decade ago."

"That's when I stopped having to turn." Lavender frowned.

"Wait, what?"

"Yes, your visit ten years ago was the last time I felt the need for wolfsbane. Bill couldn't explain it."

Ron worked it out. The talisman was protecting her by siphoning her werewolf magic. If he reinstated his bond with it, then she would be left unprotected, forced to turn into a werewolf monthly. Her expression indicated she understood this as well.

"Brew some wolfsbane. I have to take the talisman back. I wish there was another way."

"Ron, please," she begged, her brown eyes wide. "Please don't take it."

"Brew the wolfsbane, Lav. I'm really sorry, but he's going to kill my family."

Tears rolled down her plump cheeks and Ron turned away, reaching for the medallion. He had to save his family foremost.

"Please, don't!"

A flash of white light flooded the room just before he touched it. Her words scattered into the air. Then he was alone in total darkness.

The space now warm and dry, he should feel cozy here, but in his marrow, he knew something was terribly wrong. A sort of sickly sweet and sour stench mingled with a distinct musk. It made Ron's skin prickle with bumps of fear.

"No," he whispered. His breath shallow gasps, he finally dared to lift his wand and cast, " _Lumos_."

His lower lip trembled violently at the sight before him. Spiders. They were everywhere. He was in some type of box. Trapped. Trapped in a box full of spiders. Girlish whimpers fell from his throat.

 _This can't be real. This can't be real,_ he chanted in his head, closing his eyes. Then eight spindly legs crawled over his hand and he squealed louder than Rose ever had at one of George's pranks.

"Get away!" he squeaked, scrambling backwards. His hands crushed scores of spiders in the process and he squealed again. _Think, Ron, think!_

It came to him, exerting in a loud, " _Confringo_!"

The box burst open at his blast, sunlight flooding in. His dad's familiar face leaned over him, blocking out the sun so his warm smile and sky-blue eyes were visible.

"Oh, Ronald, quit mucking about and come have tea with us." He reached out a hand to help Ron up.

Ron took it, looking down to find the box and spiders had vanished. Once on his feet, he immediately raised his wand upon seeing who was at this garden tea—Lucius and Draco Malfoy alongside Archibald and Theodore Nott.

"Oh, put that away. Tea now, practice duels later." His dad laughed, shaking his head fondly.

"Tea? With them?"

"They're your best mates." His dad gripped his forearm, leaning closer to whisper, "Or have our Great Lord's loyalties changed? What have you heard whispered? You are his favorite."

A searing pain shot from where his dad grasped onto him, and Ron looked down to see what caused it.

"What the hell?!"

The Dark Mark flourished on his forearm in a proud and radiant black. Ron looked back up at his father, eyes wide.

"What happened? Where's Harry?"

His dad laughed, turning to the group. "Ronald's made the best joke! He's just asked where Harry is!"

The others fell into a raucous mess of teary chortles.

"You're too modest, Ronald. That's what makes you Weasleys the best," Archibald said, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.

Draco snorted. "He wasn't modest when he told our Great Lord how he killed Potter."

Lucius tutted. "Now, now, Draco, play nice."

"I killed Harry Potter?" Ron breathed.

"Of course! Won the war! Your mother and I have never been prouder of anyone, Son." His dad clapped him on the back.

"This can't be real. Mum's here?"

"Inside entertaining the women."

Ron turned to find 'inside' meant the massive country house, the letter 'W' carved into its center tower. He hurried up the stone steps, quickly spotting his mother with Narcissa Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson, and his sister Ginny.

"Oh, Ronald, our favorite hero!" his mother called.

"Where's Hermione?" he blurted out as it suddenly dawned on him that she might be dead, too.

"Her…what? I'm not sure I understood you, dear."

"Mother, you know what he said. He mentioned that Mudblood Dad killed," Ginny muttered.

His mum turned red and Ron's stomach dropped. He ran from the room, down the gilded hallway, and out the front door. Outside was dark and damp, however, and he spun around in confusion. The estate was gone, replaced by forest.

"Ron! Wake up!" a voice shouted.

"Who's there?"

"Wake up! You're about to die!"

"Show yourself!"

Fred popped out in front of him, aged nineteen with a mischievous grin on his face and a cauldron in his arms.

"I said wake up, little brother." He tipped the cauldron over Ron's head, its icy contents gushing over him.

Ron gasped for air, lifting his head from the shag rug of Lavender's cottage to find himself face to face with a growling werewolf.

"N-nice doggy," he squeaked as the blood left his face.

Something burned into the palm of his hand and he tore his eyes from Lavender's werewolf form to see it was the medallion. _I passed the trials. That's why she's a werewolf now._

"Sorry, Lav," he said, shoving the medallion against her fur.

She yelped in pain, retreating from him to lick her burn wound. Ron leapt to his feet and ran out the door towards the edge of the forest. The despondent howl that erupted behind him curled his toes, but he pressed on, desperately wishing he'd had supper tonight. There were only metres to go and he managed not to look back as the sound of paws tearing through the field came closer. He ripped out his wand, crossed the threshold, and disapparated seconds before the leaping werewolf's jaws made contact.

He landed in Dean Forest as it was the first place he thought to go. He leaned over to breathe, hands on his knees.

"Gotta check," he muttered, lifting his sleeve and sighing in relief. The only marks on his forearm were his freckles and old scars. That had only been part of the talisman's trials, and now his magical bond to it was fully restored.

He scarfed down the crisps and consumed his apple faster than he'd ever eaten a piece of fruit.

"Right," he said, somewhat restored. "Time to go save my family."

He apparated outside the Nott estate just as the grays of dawn crept into the sky. Racing to the entry, he slammed the door's knocker hard until it swung open. No one was there, but Ron soldiered forth.

"I have your stupid medallion, Nott. Let's finish this," Ron called into the hall.

"In the back room, Weasel."

A muffled female scream could be heard after Nott spoke and Ron knew it was Hermione. Unlike the talisman's trials, this was real. Nothing would just disappear. Death was permanent. He let out a shaky breath, lit his wand, and hurried to the back room.

Inside was Nott, looking bored as he paced in front of Ron's family, who were magically bound and gagged in the center of the room. The children were not awake, which momentarily terrified him, but Hermione appeared too calm for them to be dead. She was shaking her head vehemently, eyes wide, and Ron knew he'd walked into a trap.

"Release them now," Ron demanded.

"Give me the medallion."

"Release them first."

"I said no negotiation," Nott snarled. He extended his hand. "The medallion."

Hermione shut her eyes tightly as Ron handed it to him, sounding out a muffled scream.

Nott closed his fingers around it and then pulled his wand quicker than Ron could react to.

" _Avada Kedavra_!"

The curse shot out at Ron. Instead of hitting him, it bounced off a shield that had gone up without Ron's bidding and rebounded onto Nott, killing him instantly. Ron stood in shock. The book hadn't mentioned what happened if someone tried to take the talisman by force, but apparently in killing someone to protect him, the talisman severed its bond to him.

"Huh," he uttered, a relieved grin washing over his face.

He swiped the medallion from Nott and pocketed it, glad he could make good with Lavender by returning it. She'd never have to transform again.

He quickly freed his family as the dawn's pink light streamed in through the windows.

"Ron! What _was_ that?" Hermione exclaimed once ungagged.

"I'll explain everything once we're home." Hermione nodded, and he added cheekily, "Oh, and you're welcome for saving your life."


End file.
